


why am i falling?

by themetgayla



Series: you fixed my broken wings [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I’m sorry, Mentions of self-harm, Panic Attacks, beca is a sad bean, chloe is soft, my heart hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 09:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14210406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetgayla/pseuds/themetgayla
Summary: “It’s the silence that gets her. The stillness, thenothing, that hangs in the air only worsens the aching in the pit of her stomach. She’stired, too tired to even function.”





	why am i falling?

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first oneshot in a new series i’m planning. they’ll all be posted as separate oneshots, but will follow on from each other.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this one!
> 
> **tw: panic attacks, depression, mentions of self-harm**

Beca sighs softly as she flicks on her coffee machine, pulling a mug down from the cabinet above her head. She chooses a spotty grey one, a personal favourite — it’s one of the many Aubrey gave her when she moved into her new apartment. She tries not to think too hard as she pours her coffee, fighting to stop herself falling deeper into the dark hole she’s already in.

It’s the silence that gets her. The stillness, the _nothing_ , that hangs in the air only worsens the aching in the pit of her stomach. She’s _tired_ , too tired to even function.

Beca’s been working crazy hours ever since she started her new job six months ago. She can’t even remember the last time she slept for more than five hours. The pure determination and will to succeed that have been dragging her through the past few months is starting to fade. Beca is aware she’s slowing down, her motivation escaping her fragment by shattered fragment. Her long hours are both physically and mentally draining, and she wants nothing more than to sleep for a million years.

She can’t, though.

Instead of sleep, Beca has coffee to keep her going. It’s no secret she’s addicted to caffeine; she practically lives off it. Her job is so demanding she barely gets time to eat, and by the time she stumbles through the door at midnight, she’s too tired to even heat up a meal for one.

Beca doesn’t like to admit that her life is kind of falling apart — it definitely is, but whatever — so she lives in denial. The fact Beca’s too scared to enter into a relationship is part of the reason she keeps herself so busy. Throwing herself into her work manages to distract her mind from falling deeper into the pit of depression she’s already in.

Her apartment is too lonely, too big for just her. Beca supposes she _could_ get a girlfriend, but it’s not as if it would last long, is it? Her childhood has left her scarred, afraid of committing herself to a loving relationship. Usually Beca gets by on the odd one night stand, but she hasn’t had sex in almost three months.

Not being able string a coherent sentence together without nearly crying is part of the reason she sucks at flirting so much. Beca flat out refuses to see a shrink — she really doesn’t want someone trying to pick apart her feelings. She doesn’t want to experience them, let alone let someone else witness them.

Aubrey and Stacie are Beca’s only friends, the only ones willing to put in the effort of maintaining her friendship. She’s a lousy friend, and she knows it. It’s hard when her chest still tightens every time she picks up the phone to call one of them. So she tends to avoid it altogether.

Beca’s phone starts buzzing on the counter, snapping her out of her trance. Her eyes slowly shift back into focus, her gaze coming to rest on her now cold coffee. She yawns and dumps it down the sink, deciding she’ll just make a cup later.

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Beca picks up her phone and stares at the screen. She sighs in relief as she sees Aubrey’s name on the screen. Ignoring the twisting in her stomach, Beca swipes her thumb across the screen and raises the device to her ear.

“Hey Bree.” Beca moves over to her couch and flops down onto it, covering her mouth to stifle another yawn.

 _“Beca Mitchell, you’re alive.”_ Aubrey’s snarky greeting makes Beca’s lips quirk upwards in a half smile.

“Just about,” she replies, too exhausted to put on the cheery facade she usually does. Beca can almost hear Aubrey’s frown through the phone and she groans internally, wondering what she’s got herself in for this time.

 _“Beca Mitchell, do I need to come over? Because I will, and you know it. Have you eaten yet today? Have you even slept in the last twenty-four yours?”_ Aubrey sounds mad, which isn’t unusual. She’s always yelling through the phone at Beca these days, telling her to take care of herself.

Aubrey has a busy work schedule, but always finds time to come over and make sure Beca’s okay. (She often turns up in the early hours of the morning because she knows Beca will definitely be home then. Though Aubrey’s not sure Beca would be if it weren’t for the fact the cleaner kicks her out of the studio eleven.)

“I’m fine, you don’t need to come over,” Beca says firmly, picking the TV remote up with her spare hand. She turns it on and presses mute, flicking between channels as she tries to find something half decent to fall asleep to.

_“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my questions, Beca. When did you last eat or sleep?”_

Beca winces at Aubrey’s tone; she sounds more mad than usual. “Uh...” She trails off, because she can’t actually remember. “I slept yesterday, I think. I’m not—No, I definitely did.” Beca’s visions swims a little as she rubs a hand over her face, her eyes threatening to slip shut. Time for coffee.

 _“That’s it. Stacie and I are coming over.”_ Aubrey’s words carry a sense of finality Beca knows not to argue with. The brunette hears a rustling over the line and muffled words being exchanged. She thinks she hears Stacie’s voice, agreeing to come over, but she can’t be sure. Her brain isn’t really working right now.

“You don’t have to,” Beca mumbles half-heartedly, her phone slipping in her grasp as she sags into the couch.

 _“We’ll be over in ten minutes.”_ The line goes dead then, and Beca allows her phone to fall onto the leather beside her. She leans back and allows herself a few moments of silence, a series of yawns escaping her mouth.

Beca knows she needs to sleep. She just hates falling asleep alone. Every night she tosses and turns, her mind whirring as she works herself up over nothing. Beca’s woken up countless times to find herself in the throes of a panic attack. She hates it so much that she tries not to sleep more than she absolutely has to.

Stifling yet _another_ yawn, Beca tries to rise from her couch. She finds herself unable to, her body too heavy to move. It feels like she has weights attached to her limbs, dragging them down. Giving in, Beca lets her eyes slip shut, barely fighting sleep.

Minutes later she’s knocked out, her eyebrows creased into a small frown.

* * *

When Beca wakes, she finds she’s not on the couch like she had been the night before. She’s lying in her own bed, the duvet and blankets pulled up around her. Beca finds herself sinking into the mattress, relishing in the comfort of it. (She hasn’t actually slept in her bed for months; she usually just passes out on the couch, too tired to drag herself to bed.)

The brunette spends a few more minutes relishing in the warmth that envelops her, her mind finding a rare moment of peace. Beca hears soft voices on the the other side of her door and figures Aubrey and Stacie must have stayed the night.

Reluctantly, Beca slides out of bed, her feet hitting the soft carpet as she does so. She realises she’s still dressed in the same clothes as before, and she sighs with relief. She doesn’t want Aubrey finding anything.

As Beca passes her mirror, she stops and turns to look at her reflection. Her eyes are sunken in, her cheeks hollow and pale. Her once tight jeans are a slightly baggy, and her plaid shirt engulfs her just a little more than usual. Beca winces; she really doesn’t look good. No wonder Aubrey’s worried.

She doesn’t need to be though. Beca thinks she’s doing just fine on her own. She’s not dead, so that’s something.

Beca hastily changes into some sweatpants and an over-sized shirt. After pulling on a hoodie and twisting her hair up in a quick messy bun, she leaves her room.

Both Aubrey and Stacie turn to look at her as soon as her bedroom door opens, their expressions unreadable. Stacie offers a soft, almost apologetic smile, and Beca’s known her long enough to know it’s a “I’m sorry for what Aubrey’s about to say” look.

Beca’s right, because as soon as she advances towards the two women, Aubrey opens her mouth. “Rebecca Mitchell!” The brunette recoils at the use of her full name; she’s in _big_ trouble. “You told me you were okay.”

“I am, I’m—”

“You are _not_ okay! The only food in your fridge is leftover Chinese and two apples. Your freezer is full of untouched meals; I know you bought those four months ago because I was there with you, and we bought enough for _three months_.” Aubrey’s practically seething when she finishes, her hands shaking with rage. But as soon as she sees Beca’s eyes fill with tears, her expression softens considerably. “Beca, you can’t keep living like this,” she says gently, walking over to her friend. “I hate seeing you fall apart.”

Beca sobs as Aubrey pulls her into a hug, wrapping her arms protective round the woman’s small frame. Stacie walks over silently and joins them, hugging Beca from behind. After a few minutes, Aubrey pulls away and looks Beca in the eyes.

“I know you don’t like public places much, but will you _please_ get out somewhere other than work. You spend too much time at the studio, and any spare time you spend cooped up in here. It’s the weekend now, please go out.” It’s quite a big ask, and Aubrey knows it. She expects Beca to flat out refuse, to be completely honest, so she’s more than shocked when she receives a tiny nod in response.

“Uh, my boss invited me to a private performance of Dua Lipa’s new album. I guess I could go?” Beca chews on her lip nervously as she relays the information, her stomach flipping as she speaks again. “But, um, he told me to bring a plus one.”

Stacie regards Beca thoughtfully, an idea sparking in her eyes. “How about Aubrey and I find you a girl to take? She can find one and I can find one. Then you can choose,” she suggests hopefully. Aubrey nods in agreement as she waits for Beca’s response.

Beca frowns at first, chewing thoughtfully on her lip, but the more she thinks about it, the better the idea seems. Stacie’s plan means she doesn’t have to stress about finding someone. Stacie and Aubrey both know plenty of respectable women, she’s sure of it. “I guess that would be okay? I mean, they probably won’t want to go when they see me in person but—”

“Beca, of course they’ll want to go with you,” Stacie says gently, offering the smaller brunette a warm smile. “Leave it to us!” She turns to Aubrey and grins, excited at the prospect of battling her girlfriend to find their best friend a partner for the viewing.

Beca smiles as she looks between the couple before her. They’re sharing loving smiles, their eyes full of adoration as they stare at each other. It makes her stomach twist, because she finds herself wanting it. Beca’s never really felt a strong need to have a relationship before — even if she has, it’s virtually impossible for her to maintain one — but now she finds herself pining for someone.

She doesn’t know who, but she just finds herself wanting _more_.

* * *

Two days later, Beca gets a call from Aubrey. She hasn’t exactly left her apartment _yet_ , but she plans to, she really does. She just has to work up the courage to go somewhere. Her chest tightens every time she steps outside her apartment to go to work, let alone a busy public place.

Beca picks the one with trembling hands, worried Aubrey will be mad she hasn’t ventured out yet. “Hi,” she mumbles, turning onto her side in bed. Beca brings her knees up to her chest and yawns, pressing her phone to her ear.

 _“We have our ladies, Beca. Now I’m guessing you haven’t left your apartment since we came over, which is fine. Really, it’s okay.”_ Aubrey’s gentle tone releases the knot of worry in Beca’s stomach, and allows her to stretch her legs back out again. _“But, since you haven’t left, we thought we’d show you the two women at a coffee house.”_

Beca’s heart rate increases at the words, the thumping in her chest resonating through her whole body. She swallows thickly and adjusts her grip on her phone, worried the sudden sweatiness of her palms will make it slip. “That’s... I mean—I can’t—” Beca stops mid sentence as her throat closes up, panic bubbling up inside her.

 _“Beca, Beca breathe, okay? It’s a very small coffee shop, tucked away between some buildings. I know you can do this. It may be uncomfortable, but Beca you have to expose yourself to these things for them to have any chance of improving. It’s hard sweetie, I know, but you’ve got this.”_ Aubrey’s words of encouragement and optimism calm Beca significantly; she even feels a flicker of hope igniting deep in her gut. Aubrey is right, she _can_ do this. She can kick anxiety’s ass and go outside, no problem.

“Thanks Bree. Text me the address and I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Beca hangs up and lets out a slow breath. Time to face (some of) her demons.

* * *

It takes Beca an hour to leave her apartment.

She agreed to meet Aubrey and Stacie at ten, and it’s already quarter past. After receiving a calming text from Aubrey assuring her to take her time, Beca feels slightly better. All she has to do is get in her car and drive to the coffee house; it’s not that hard.

It takes Beca another ten minutes of carefully controlled breathing to step outside her door. She focuses on staying calm as she takes the elevator down to the carpark and walks out to her car. Her throat constricts as she crosses the carpark, unrealistic situations springing to the forefront of her mind.

What is she gets kidnapped? Or killed? What if she crashes her car and dies? What if there’s a lot of traffic?

Beca wonders if she can make it the short distance to the coffee house on foot. She’s _terrified_ , but if she makes it, it’ll be a huge step. Beca takes a deep breath and pictures the look of pride that would appear on Aubrey’s face. Stacie would grin and she’d be enveloped in a tight hug. Beca wants to make her friends proud. She wants to do this. For herself, and for them.

Pulling her coat around herself tightly, Beca begins the walk to the coffee house. She glances down at her phone and sees an encouraging text from Aubrey.

_**Aubrey [10:23am]:** No rush, Beca, take your time! If you manage to make it here I’ll buy you those new headphones you want xx_

The kind message elicits a soft smile from Beca; Aubrey knows how much she wants those headphones. Beca doesn’t know what she’d do thought the blonde. Aubrey has probably saved her life. Multiple times.

The thought spurs Beca on, and she becomes more determined than ever to make it to the coffee house on foot.

Beca slips one earbud into her ear and puts _Titanium_ on repeat. The song calms her immensely and gives her the courage to keep on going, no matter what happens. It makes her feel her stronger than she is, something she really needs right now.

She focuses on mouthing along to the lyrics as she walks down the street, thankful that it’s not too busy. She knows exactly where the coffee house is, so that’s one less thing to stress about.

Beca almost turns back twenty times before she gets even close to _Death by Caffeine_ , but she manages. She’s still mouthing along to _Titanium_ — she’s on her fifth replay — when she suddenly slams into a soft body.

Hot coffee spills everywhere, scalding Beca’s pale skin as she recoils in shock. The stinging pain of the burning coffee distracts her for a moment, and she stares down at the bright red mark on her hand.

“Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry!”

A frantic voice snaps Beca from her trance, and she snaps her head up, her eyes wide. There’s a woman — a _beautiful_ woman — standing in front of her, an apologetic expression scrawled across her pretty face. Beca finds herself hypnotised by bright blue eyes and fiery curls, unable to think properly.

Her mind stumbles as she tries to piece together a sentence. It’s this kind of thing that freaks her out. Beca anticipates the tightness of her chest and closing of her throat before it happens. Her stomach drops as she steps backwards instinctively, eyes flicking around to try and find a quiet place to panic.

“Um, are you okay?” The woman takes a step forward, concern filling her bright eyes. Beca’s phone slips from her grasp and tumbles to the pavement, her earphones falling with it. It cracks and a thin line spreads across the screen.

Beca turns on her heel and stumbles into a small alley, her vision blurry with tears as she tries to coax Aubrey’s voice into her head. _That’s it Beca, deep breaths. In, hold, and out. You’re doing great sweetie, okay? Don’t worry. I’m here._ Imagining Aubrey’s voice actually helps a surprising amount.

By the time the gorgeous woman rounds the corner, clutching the smashed phone in her hand, Beca’s breathing is almost back to normal. The brunette lets her head fall back against the brick, relishing in the small shot of pain that spreads through her head.

“Are you okay?” The woman stares at Beca, offering a soft smile as the brunette meets her worried gaze.

“Y-Yeah I’m fine. I just—Anxiety, y’know?” Beca has never given up a piece of information — especially one so personal — as easily as that. There’s just something about those bright ocean-like eyes that calms her significantly.

The woman nods, understanding filling her eyes. Beca expected sympathy or pity, not this look of calm understanding. It’s surprisingly refreshing.

“How do you feel now? Do you need anything?”

“No I’m—I think I’m good. I’m meant to be meeting my friends for coffee and—oh god I’m so late. And I spilt your coffee, _shit_. D-Do you want another one? I’ll... I can buy you one now if you want? Or not, whatever’s fine for you. It’s really okay if not I can just—” Beca can feel herself getting worked up the more she babbles, so she cuts herself off abruptly and ducks her head as an embarrassed blush spreads across her pale cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay.” The woman steps forward and tugs Beca’s hands into her own. She laces their fingers together loosely and offers a tentative smile. “I’d love to get coffee with you, but I don’t need you to buy it for me.”

“Y-You mean l-like a date?” Beca kicks herself internally as soon as the words tumble from her mouth. Of course the stunning wouldn’t didn’t mean a _date_. She probably has a husband, maybe some children, or at _least_ a boyfriend. Beca doesn’t believe she’s single for a second, and she’s certainly not _gay_.

Beca ducks her head and avoids the woman’s gaze as she waits for a response. She focuses on drawing small circles on her thigh through her jeans, her short nails pressing lightly into her skin. The silence stretches on, and Beca feels herself begin to panic once more. “I’m so sorry, I just... I don’t even know why I would assume that. You’re probably straight and married and—”

“Wait, no, I meant as a date,” the redhead interjects, hope flickering in her eyes. She offers Beca a soft smile as she takes a tentative step forwards.

“W-What? Really?”

The woman offers an enthusiastic nod in response, a wide smile spreading across her lips. “Come on, let’s go.” She grabs Beca’s hand again and pulls her gently back to the street. Beca follows willingly, focusing on the sensation of her skin against the redhead’s soft hand. “I’m Chloe by the way.”

 _Chloe_. Beca’s heart skips a beat at the name. As they’re walking, her mind is filled of bright blue eyes and fiery hair and just  _Chloe_. The redhead doesn’t let go of her hand, and instead chooses to intwine their fingers together tightly. Beca walks with her heart in her throat; since when has this ever happened to her?

Beca can’t form a proper sentence without getting anxious, let _alone_ go on a date with a gorgeous woman. It’s just not realistic.

“You never told me your name!” Chloe turns her head to look at Beca with curious eyes as they make their way down the street.

“Uh, it’s B-Beca.”

“What a nice name,” Chloe comments, grinning. “So, you said you were going to meet friends?”

Beca’s about to nod simply in response, but then she realises that Chloe probably wants more than just a silent nod. She frowns and falters in her step, her upper body tensing slightly as her brain works to put together a coherent sentence. Beca’s aware that Chloe is still looking at her expectantly, and she whimpers quietly.

“Beca, it’s okay, take your time.” Beca nods, staring down at the pavement as she tries to calm her heartbeat. Take your time. Beca listens to Chloe’s melodic voice repeat in her head, her thoughts flowing more easily by the minute.

“They’re meant to be finding me a date for—for a m-music gala. I-I’m a music producer so I get to, um, go to p-private viewings and stuff.” Beca let’s out a heavy breath when she’s finished, her heart thumping as she waits for Chloe’s laughter.

Instead, the redhead offers her a proud smile and squeezes her hand in support. Beca’s heart soars. “That’s awesome! Who’s the private viewing for?”

“D-Dua Lipa.”

A small squeal escapes Chloe’s lips as her eyes light up. “Are you serious? Oh my god, I _love_ Dua Lipa!” She yells, squeezing Beca’s hand excitedly. Beca can’t help grinning at the childlike display of emotion, the rest of the world slipping away as she fills her mind with _Chloe Chloe Chloe._

But then Chloe’s face falls, and Beca’s heart drops. “I’ve never seen her though. I cant afford concert tickets.” The redhead laughs, but it’s sad and humourless. It makes Beca want to cry, because that is not an expression she wants to see ever again.

“I can bring you,” Beca blurts before she can stop herself. It’s probably a bad idea to invite Chloe because she’s a bumbling mess in front of her, but when the redhead grins wider than ever, Beca can’t find it in herself to care.

“Seriously?! Oh my god Beca, thank you! Thank you thank you _thank you_.” Chloe stops dead in her tracks and envelops Beca in a tight hug. Her arms wrap around the brunette’s waist, pressing their bodies together.

It’s the surprise that triggers the racing of her heart and her sudden erratic breathing. Beca groans as a familiar wave of panic washes over her. Beca _really_ doesn’t want to have a panic attack while she’s got an extremely gorgeous woman pressed against her. She wills the panic away and instead focuses on Chloe’s fruity perfume and soft, warm embrace. As soon as Beca manages to melt into the hug, her muscles loosen and her breathing slows.

Chloe pulls away, a guilty look etched into her face. “I’m sorry, I—” she starts, shuffling backwards slightly so there’s a respectable distance between them once more.

Beca finds herself missing the warmth straight away, and she frowns. “It’s okay, really. I’m fine,” she assures, smiling. Her eyes widen when her cracked phone chimes in Chloe’s hand. “Shit! Aubrey’s going to be so worried about me.”

“It’s okay Becs, let’s just get there quickly.” Chloe takes Beca’s hand into hers again and they continue their walk to the coffee house, both unable to keep the smiles off their faces.

* * *

Beca and Chloe arrive at _Death by Caffeine_ two minutes later, their hands still linked. Aubrey looks panicked as she aggressively drums her fingernails onto the table-top. Stacie has one hand on the blonde’s back, gently rubbing soothing circles as she assures her that everything will be okay.

Aubrey’s head snaps up as soon as the bell overhead chimes, her eyes wide and hopeful. She lets out a heavy breath of relief as soon as she sees Beca, and immediately rises from her seat. Lips curving into a thankful smile, she rushes forwards and pulls the brunette into a tight hug.

“Beca, oh my _god_ , are you okay?” Aubrey’s gaze flits over Beca’s face, looking for any signs of worry or distress. Her hands reach up to brush a few strands of hair from the brunette’s face, the touch soft and caring

“I’m good, I’m okay. I, uh, smashed my phone on the way here. I’m sorry I couldn’t text you,” Beca explains, fiddling with the hem of her flannel shirt nervously. She glances across at Chloe, who’s standing patiently beside her, a small smile on her lips. “Bree, this is, um, Chloe. She—Well, I bumped into her and she— _wow_ , I can’t believe this is true—asked me out.”

Chloe grins, brushing their thumbs together supportively. Beca blushes as she meets Aubrey’s gaze again, her heart pounding in her chest. For once, it’s not out of panic; it’s out of nervous excitement. Chloe makes her stomach flip and her heart race. But Beca wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re kidding right? Beca Mitchell got a date? Without help?” Stacie comes up behind Aubrey, a grin plastered on her face. She loops her arms around the blonde’s waist and presses a soft kiss to her neck. Aubrey playfully pushes Stacie away and wriggles from her grasp; it’s a known fact that Aubrey isn’t a huge fan of PDA.

“Hey! I’m not as incompetent as you think,” Beca protests, grabbing Chloe’s hand indignantly. She laces their fingers together and shuffles even closer to the redhead.

“Come on Beca, don’t lie to yourself,” Stacie teases, the words spoken in good faith.

Beca’s face falls though, and she drops Chloe’s hand in a flash. She steps away and wraps her arms around her middle, a haunted expression taking residence on her face. “I-I know. This is my first date in f-five years.” A light blush dusts Beca’s cheeks as she whispers the confession. She ducks her head in embarrassment and hopes to high heavens that she doesn’t start panicking.

Beca’s chest tightens, and she groans. Not here, not now.

But then Chloe’s hands are holdings hers, and her face is being tilted upwards. Navy eyes meet cerulean ones, and Beca can’t fight the thankful smile that breaks out on her lips. “Thank you,” she murmers.

Aubrey and Stacie watch, expressions of shock and relief on their respective faces. It’s a miracle that Beca’s letting another woman touch her, and an even bigger surprise that Chloe is able to calm her down instantly.

“Well I guess you won’t be wanting our lovely choices anymore.” Stacie steps back to reveal two women, sat patiently at a table, engrossed in conversation.

“Looks like they’re happy together,” Beca comments, squeezing Chloe’s hand tightly. “And I’m happy with Chloe.”

Chloe grins and presses a soft kiss to Beca’s cheek. “I’m happy with you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you thought! comments push me to write faster <3


End file.
